The Wistful Cipher
The bone fragment cut into the palm of my left hand, a jagged shard of ivory that felt less like an object and more like a continuation of my own fractured radius, as I held it up against the gray, lightless sky of the Highlands, trying to align its notches with the stars that had long since vanished behind the heavy, wet snow. I am Elias Thorne, Inquisitor of the Crown, and I have been walking...
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